First Steps
by sagdragon3002
Summary: DOTR series. The Defenders of Earth Realm first met Raiden two years ago, when the first official Kombat of their generation began...Or did they? Chapters 8/8 posted.
1. The Story Begins: Kitana

Disclaimer: Mortal Kombat doesn't belong to me. I'm sure all MK fans out there are supremely relieved by that.

Notes: A Defenders of the Realm-based fic, while using the movies to formulate a timeline. Contains mentions of MK: Conquest.

Summary: The Defenders of Earth Realm first met Raiden two years ago, when the first official Kombat of their generation began. . . . Or did they? Written in a series of drabbles.

* * *

_LiuSubzeroSonyaJaxNightwolfStryker**Kitana**_

Taking a moment to relax and put aside the weight of an entire Realm, Raiden peered in on his mortals with a benign smile. They were sharing an easy day, using it to joke and simply bask in each other's company.

The Elders had protested at first when he made his choices for the Chosen Ones, but Raiden had stood firm by his decision. The Thunder God had known, nearly twenty-five years previously, that the six mortals would be the greatest fighters of Earth Realm's history, possibly even greater than Kung Lao, Siro, and Taja. Sure, they had only been children at the time, but they still had strong auras of destiny emanating from them. And he had been proven right, as they staved off invasions from Shao Kahn, Shang Tsung, and Shinnok time and time again.

Kitana had been the one Defender he had not taken into consideration twenty-five years ago, but as she had remained in the Outworld-transformed-Edenia for the past several centuries, Raiden forgave himself that mistake. He had made up for it two years ago on this day (a further exact twenty-three years since the day he first met the other six) with a gift, a pair of steel fans with the Kombat dragon engraved in its iron supports. Raiden was unaware whether or not Kitana knew the source behind the gift, but in the subsequent battles she carried the new fans, storing her old ones in her dresser if an emergency arose.

A burst of laughter made Raiden revert his attention back to the group. Stryker had told some joke about Mexicans, blacks, and whites, one which Raiden wouldn't repeat except in very private company. Soon other jokes were told, slowly degenerating in appropriateness. Raiden wondered briefly where mortals could possibly find the time to create such tasteless humor, then brushed it aside. If this was the way his mortals could best unwind, then only his mother would keep him from protecting them.

Of course, once his mother got involved, everyone else was on their own. Raiden was fairly certain he was still on restriction for burning his mother's rose garden into shrivels. He was staying out of the way as much as possible to avoid further punishment by his formidable mother.

But yes, aside from his mother, Raiden would do everything to keep his mortals safe from others, gods included. They had done so much to protect their Realm, even under the most unsavory conditions. They deserved to have some aid from their Protector of Earth Realm.

Raiden wondered if they remembered him approaching them those years ago, when he first identified them all as his Defenders. If they didn't, would they demand their lives back under the argument that they ought to choose their own paths? Raiden wouldn't deny them their normal lives, though he would despair at their losses. They were more than just his fighters. For the first time in a long while (about 500 years, if Raiden cared to count) his Defenders were his friends . . . his _family_. He spent more time down here, mingling with them and laughing at their antics than he did in the Heavens dodging the Elders, his peers, and his mother.

But if they did remember . . .

_No, _Raiden decided. _They don't. They would have brought it up already if they did._

Slowly, Raiden entered the kitchen and sat down languorously on a chair. The others made no notice of his entrance except to slide him the bowl of popcorn and repeat some of the other (equally off-color) jokes he had missed. Letting their voices fade into the background, Raiden considered the day, twenty-five years ago precisely, he had met the future Defenders of the Earth Realm for the first time. . . .

* * *

The Mexicans, blacks, whites joke Stryker tells does exist, as do several of the ones alluded to but not described. But asthey would undoubtedly get me kicked off I won't post it. If you're dying of curiosity (and swear by your honor as a human being that you won't accuse me of being racist and tell to kick me off the site) then message me and I will write you the joke Stryker tells. 


	2. The Best Isn't Always for Last: Liu

Disclaimer: Mortal Kombat doesn't belong to me. I'm sure all MK fans out there are supremely relieved by that.

* * *

_**Liu**SubzeroSonyaJaxNightwolfStrykerKitana_

Sitting in a chair, fingers steepled, the Thunder God Raiden wondered at his luck and decided Bishamonten, war god of the Seven Gods of Fortune, liked making his life difficult to get a kick out of his squirming.

With a sigh Raiden exited the private room at the Temple of Light, though not before donning beggar's robes. While most of the monks recognized him from sight and sound there were still some he could fool into thinking he was nothing more than dirt at their feet.

And he needed that now. Discretion. Anonymity. The Chosen One couldn't just respect him because he was a god, but respect him as another person.

Raiden let out his breath through his nose in a disgruntled huff. The Elders had tried to intervene and choose his fighters on the premise that, as Earth Realm had lost the last nine Kombats, Raiden was failing. So now Raiden was in a desperate search for Chosen Ones in spite of the fact that the Kombat wasn't for another twenty-three years. He needed to bring his case to the Elders now. He needed to show that, while the mortals _had_ lost, it was not because they were weak.

Raiden only hoped this generation was not only the best, but good enough to defeat Shang Tsung and, by extension, Shao Kahn.

Children's laughter brought Raiden up short. Several children ran in wild tangents in a courtyard, chasing one child who held a bright yellow ball in his hands.

Recognizing the bearer as Kung Lao, a direct descendant of the Great Kung Lao, Raiden bit his lip in dismay. While the child's aura was brilliant, it wasn't the distinguished aura of a Chosen or, preferably, _the_ Chosen One. The god didn't know how a descendant of such a noble line could be surpassed, but Kung Lao was not the Chosen One of this generation.

"_Chan! _Mother said to come home _now_!"

Raiden averted his eyes to the speaker. A nine year old boy stood in the courtyard with an impressive no-nonsense scowl on his face. His black hair was shaggy and black eyes dark with responsibility, dressed in the simple clothes of a boy from a modest family.

While his appearance was poor and bedraggled, the boy's aura was not. A tornado of power, determination, and humanity roared, diminishing Kung Lao's own and all the other boys in the courtyard.

One boy stopped his frantic chasing, stomping his feet in frustration. "_Liiiuuu_, I'm playing!"

"Supper is on the table, Chan. If you want to eat, then come home _now_."

The brother did not share the strong spirit Liu did, Raiden was saddened to see. In fact, Chan seemed to have a very short lifespan.

No, if Raiden wanted the best fighters Earth Realm had to offer, Liu was it. Liu was _the_ Chosen One and, if his aura was anything to go by, the best. The best since Kung Lao of five hundred years ago.

Raiden shied away from that memory. The memory of Kung Lao's body mangled and defiled by that damned Goro still hurt terribly.

He approached Liu, blanking his emotions. Chan and Kung Lao had both converged on the elder boy, but they turned at his arrival. Chan seemed unaware of his godhood, but Kung Lao gazed up sharply at him, respect shining in his far-softer black eyes.

Liu, on the other hand, stared at him with suspicion while surreptitiously shielding his brother. "What do you want?"

Inwardly Raiden sighed despairingly. Why couldn't his last hope have been humble, respectful, considerate? Instead Liu had the confrontational, cynical attitude of a world-weary man, one who wouldn't place his trust in a god any more than he would in an emperor of China.

Rather than smiting the child as would befit a deity of his position, Raiden cocked his head. "To meet a responsible young man like yourself."

Liu's brows narrowed. Chan, oblivious, pouted in envy unique to younger siblings. "You always get to meet the cool people, Liu."

_Why couldn't the younger brother be Chosen? I wouldn't mind. Not in the least._

But Fate and Destiny had chosen the hot-blooded youngster. Raiden wasn't one to argue with the reigning forces—much. He told Liu, "Do you always look after your younger brother?"

Jutting his chin out, Liu said, "It's none of your business."

"Liu," Kung Lao whispered urgently, apparently regarding Liu's sole year elder as immaterial, "speak gentler. The monks would be horrified if they heard you speak so, even to the lowest of beggars. Not everyone is as they seem."

Liu sent the boy a scalding look. "The monks aren't the boss of me, or anyone. I'm my own man, not someone who has to ask them what is right and wrong. Anyone who needs to be told is someone who has far more pressing moral problems."

_Well. Maybe not a wholly lost cause. I think I'm just reacting negatively because the Elders left a bad taste in my mouth. _"Well spoken, Liu," Raiden smiled sincerely now, resting a hand on his and Kung Lao's shoulders. With that act he sent a burst of power through, marking the former as _the_ Chosen One and the latter as Chosen. Both boys pulled away, Kung Lao gazing up with wide eyes while Liu glared.

_Or maybe I have a right to be concerned that the fate of this world lays in the hands of **this** child._

"I hope to see you both in the near future," Raiden said cryptically, turning away. "The world needs people like you."

The boys watched as he disappeared into the catacombs of the Temple. Liu thought that would be the last he saw of the beggar, but when he returned home a red headband was tied around his bedpost. Written in bold, black Chinese lettering was, "_You will overcome Destiny herself to be great_." At the end was a black Chinese dragon entrapped by a black, cracked circle.

Liu stared, uncomprehending. The boy answered his mother's call obediently, tucking the headband into his pocket.

* * *

I've always had the idea that Liu was a rebellious child, particularly since the first movie depicted Liu as rather cynical toward Raiden at first. Just letting you all know why I made him so skeptical. 


	3. Innocence Before Darkness: SubZero

Disclaimer: Mortal Kombat doesn't belong to me. I'm sure all MK fans out there are supremely relieved by that.

Notes: Vague mentioning from MK: Deception. If you haven't played or followed that game, then you might not know who Raiden is referring to, nor do you really need to know.

* * *

_Liu**Subzero**SonyaJaxNightwolfStrykerKitana_

Of all the things Raiden hated most about China, it was the winter. Winters in _mountainous _China were harsh, cold, and oppressing. If Raiden had had his druthers, he would've picked staying in the Heavens drinking some warm tea.

However, Raiden didn't have his choice of activities. He had to find the Chosen Ones that would compete in the Kombat. So he trudged in the snow, searching for the elusive aura of a nearby Chosen One.

This child held much promise if he managed to elude him so far. But Raiden was catching up to the rascal.

Pausing mid-step, Raiden tilted an ear upwards. The wind whistled through the trees and past very fine fabric.

The god hopped to the side as a shuriken landed in his stead, and with a forceful push Raiden leapt into the trees. Spotting the well-concealed mortal, Raiden struck the person lightly across the shoulders, felling the victim.

Raiden followed the Chosen One down, landing lightly and watching with approval as the mortal landed on his feet. Black eyes glared up at him past a blue mask, breath coming out in wisps. Dressed in an all-black body-suit, it was obvious what the boy was doing out in the woods.

He was a Lin Kuei ninja in training.

_This generation just loves to be as difficult as possible, it seems. I couldn't have kind, generous tree-huggers that don't mind fighting for their lives and their Realm. No, I have smartalecky little boys and ninjas from a slowly-corrupting clan. Next thing I know, I'll have fat drunken masters who use their own flatulence to defeat their opponents._

The ninja rushed him, pulling out kunais and shuriken. To Raiden's amusement the boy let out a yell. As he dodged the weaponry, Raiden thought, _Well, they haven't completely brainwashed him. Maybe I'll be able to wedge a seed of doubt in the bo—Elders' name!_

Raiden refocused on the battle when the ninja pulled away and shot a stream of blue chi at him. Raiden lifted an arm to brush away the chi, letting out a strangled yelp as the chi froze on his limb. Ice slowly crept upward, toward his torso, before Raiden shattered the ice.

Arm stinging and bleeding from small cuts, Raiden narrowed his eyes at the child. The ninja stood several feet away from him, holding a defensive position and attempting to hide his deep breaths.

_The boy's from the Sub-Zero line. While I'd love to have one with such power on my side, I don't know if I can trust such a dangerous element._

"Leave the woods immediately!" the boy shouted at him, "or die a painful death! You're on Lin Kuei lands now!"

Raiden shook his head slightly. He had forgotten the ninja was only a child; the voice that was not-quite mature reminded him of his innocence. "I'm not your enemy, child. Rather, someone who would like to be your friend."

The boy continued to glare suspiciously. "I'm ninja! I don't need friends!"

"Sure you do." Raiden chose a log that didn't place him closer to the boy and sat down. "You have quite a future set ahead for you, you realize."

Squaring his shoulders, the boy answered, "I'll be the next Sub-Zero of my clan, the greatest of them all. I will bring honor to my family and my clan."

_Such idealism. Yes, most definitely a child. It's almost cute to see such naivete and innocence._ "Ah, of course you will. But, may I ask, _how_ will you do so?"

The boy faltered at that, then charged on, "By being the bravest and the best. I'll go on missions and succeed where everyone else would have failed."

"Pardon my saying so, but that sounds very vague. In fact, what happens if your clan chooses to make you sacrifice more than you are willing to give? Your honor, your name, your identity? All for the betterment of the clan, which is spiraling into destruction?"

"The Lin Kuei will never fall!" the boy snapped, though there was uncertainty in his voice.

"Perhaps it won't, perhaps it will. But, my dear boy, I'm certain _you_ will not." Raiden approached him now, cautiously in case he retaliated. The ninja stared at him, no longer sure what this man's intentions were.

"Who are you?" the ninja asked.

"Someone on a quest of discovery." Raiden settled a hand, gently, on the boy's shoulders. "I hope someday my hard work will come to fruition."

Quickly Raiden thrust his power into the boy and marked him as a Chosen. Sensing the chi, the ninja cried and used a kunai to swipe at the man. But as his arm swept in an arc, the man was gone and the tingle in his body had faded to nothingness.

Eyes scanning the woods diligently, the boy scowled. He had disappeared. When he told the Grandmaster about this, he would be punished for sure.

A flash caught his attention. Carefully, keeping an eye out for any attacks, the boy crept to the object. Picking it up, he examined it.

A short-bladed sword had been left in the snow, the blade entirely blue and the handle a replica of ice. The pommel was the head of a Chinese dragon, the eyes glowing with single-karat rubies. Along the length of the blade, on one side, was written, "_Think honorably. Live honorably. Die honorably,_" in thin, delicate characters.

Contemplating the weapon, the boy searched the forest for the man who had undoubtedly dropped the weapon while engaging in battle. When he decided the man wouldn't return for the sword, he slipped the blade into his belt and made his way back to the Lin Kuei headquarters. The Grandmaster might punish him for losing the trespasser, but the boy soon to bear the name Sub-Zero decided he would live to see what the future had in store for him.


	4. Curiosity Never Killed Wolves: Nightwolf

Disclaimer: Mortal Kombat doesn't belong to me. I'm sure all MK fans out there are supremely relieved by that.

* * *

_LiuSubzeroSonyaJax**Nightwolf**StrykerKitana_

Moving eastward was a relief for Raiden, though he was heading into territory that was less kind toward Chinese deities. One for the reason that most were monotheists and believed in "God" and for another that, if they didn't believe in God, they might not believe in _him_.

The Pacific Northwest was beautiful, Raiden knew from previous visits. The one downside was the monotonous, continuous, drenching rain that presided over the lands a great majority of the time.

With a sigh Raiden forwent his typical robes for waterproof gear, particularly his coolie hat that kept the rain from dripping into his face. Carefully making his way through eastern Washington, Raiden homed in on the aura of the Chosen One.

He came upon a small tepee placed under the protection of tree branches, where the ground was dry and firm. Cinders burned, waiting until the creator fed the fire with more tinder and wood. From inside the tepee sounds of yips intermixed with laughter.

_Maybe this will turn out easier than last time_, Raiden thought hopefully, calling out softly, "Hello!"

The flap entrance flew open, emitting a mid-sized bundle of muscles, fur, and snapping jaws. Following the wolf was the tip of an arrow, nocked in the bow by a Native American boy.

_Or maybe this will turn out about the same as all the other times_.

In spite of their belligerent welcome, the wolf came no nearer to him and the boy didn't lease the arrow. Raiden tried alleviating the tension with a smile and some humor. "Does your tribe always condone hostility against old men looking for shelter from the rain?"

"Only to protect my companion and myself," the boy answered evenly, though he relaxed the bowstring. "Who are you?"

"As I said," Raiden replied, settling himself on the far side of the fire, making certain that the rain wouldn't drip onto the back of his neck, "I'm an old man looking for shelter. I heard you and your companion, and hoped you would allow me to share your fire."

He held his fingers out to the wolf in order to appease the guard. Warily the wolf sniffed Raiden's fingers, sneezing and retreating behind the boy with whimpers.

The boy glared at Raiden. "Kiva says you smell wrong. Not human. What are you?"

Raiden blinked. "Impressive. You can communicate with . . . Kiva, was it?"

"Best in my tribe at it," the boy pulled the bow taut again. "What are you?"

"I'm not your enemy," Raiden answered. "In fact, I hope to bring you a future full of honor and adventure."

The boy tilted his head. "Cryptic."

"It's my specialty."

"You're a god."

Trying not to flinch, Raiden asked, "How do you figure?"

"It's the only answer Kiva can come up with."

Cursing himself for forgetting the companion, Raiden sighed. "Alright, I'm a god. Can your companion identify anything else about me? Just so that I don't insult you or embarrass myself with knowledge you already have."

The boy eyed him, lowering his bow reluctantly. "No, nothing else. He says you smell of ozone, though."

_Well, there are some small graces left in the world_. "Tell me boy, what's your name?"

The boy cocked his head. "Aren't gods supposed to be omniscient? That's what all the elders say."

"Humor me."

Obviously disappointed, the boy slipped out of the tepee and sat before the fire, across from Raiden. "Nightwolf. This is Kiva," he added uselessly as the wolf butted the boy before clambering into his lap. "You're getting too big to do that. I want to be the shaman of my tribe when I grow up, is my 'future full of honor and adventure' related to that at all?"

_Curious little impudent child._ "Becoming shaman is immaterial to the future I have in mind for you. Perhaps helpful, but I have nothing to confide in you about that."

Nightwolf sighed sadly. "Oh well. I tried. Can you at least tell me if I have happiness in my future?"

Raiden glowered at him. "I may be a god, but seeing into the future is not my faculty."

"Then what is?"

_Little rat._ "If you keep pressing me, you'll find out."

"So then you're a war-based god? Or elemental? Father said there were many of you among the pantheon, but you don't look like any of the gods we have on our—"

Patience slowly lost as Nightwolf narrowed down his identity, Raiden moved imperceptibly behind him and ran a jolt through the boy, the wolf sitting in his lap falling to the same fate. Nightwolf collapsed against his torso.

_Damn inquisitive little child. I can already tell I'll have plenty of headaches when this one grows up and knows even more._ Nonetheless, as Raiden marked the boy as he had with the previous two, the god smiled. _It'll make for an interesting Kombat, that's for certain._

When the boy woke up the next morning to bright sunshine, the god had disappeared. Kiva whined at his side, licking his face when he sat up. Spotting something new among his belongings, Nightwolf took the object and examined it.

The bow was made not from typical bone or wood, but of a hollow, flexible material. When he concentrated, he could fuse his chi into the material and an arrow would materialize from the green glow. Pulling back the string and aiming, Nightwolf fired the chi-arrow fifty yards, a personal best he could never have accomplished with his other bow.

Eyeing the bow respectfully, Nightwolf cut off the flow of chi and slung his new bow over his shoulder. He paid his respects to the skies, the only place he could think of that the deity would return to. Collapsing his tepee and stamping out the cinders, he whistled to Kiva and started off for the tribe.

_Next time I see him, I'll ask him how he made the bow. I'm sure he'll love explaining that to me._


	5. All the Cowboys Have Come Here: Stryker

Disclaimer: Mortal Kombat doesn't belong to me. I'm sure all MK fans out there are supremely relieved by that.

* * *

_LiuSubzeroSonyaJaxNightwolf**Stryker**Kitana_

Raiden teleported into a town, taking some time to orient himself. He had teleported somewhere in the center of the U.S., Arkansas if he wasn't mistaken. Farmland stretched in every direction, oak trees dotting the landscape. There was a bawl of a dog and the answering call of a neighboring hound.

_Well, this is as unlikely a place to find a Chosen One as I can get_, Raiden thought to himself bemusedly. But there had been a signature here, and where there was a signature the Thunder God diligently went.

Transforming his appearance to that of a beggar, as per his preference, Raiden set off in the direction of the Chosen's aura. The aura grew stronger, though the landscape remained largely unchanged. A brook babbled nearby, an indirect off-shoot of the Arkansas River, and an enormous tree leaned over the water, creating immense shadows from the setting sun.

Smiling down genially at the water, Raiden took a moment to enjoy the peace of a rural setting. Too much of the world was becoming urbanized, leaving Raiden highly entertained by the technology but sorely missing the simplicity of Zhu Zin and its time.

His inattention proved to be rather detrimental as a fair-sized rock struck the back of his head. Hand instinctively grasping the aching part of his skull, Raiden turned to find the source of his pain.

A row of boys (_Where had they come from?_ Raiden momentarily wondered) sat on one of the tree branches, laughing heartily at his woe. Many of them were armed with rocks nearly the size of the one that had hit him.

Grumbling inarticulately about the lack of respect in the world from children, Raiden nearly fried the tree they sat upon when someone shouted, "Hey!"

Raiden turned his attention to the shouter, his senses overwhelmed by the proximity of a Chosen One. His eyes focused on a prepubescent boy, his shock of red hair cut short but left untamed. Hazel eyes glared at the boys on the branch, and though he hadn't grown much the boy's frame was well-muscled, undoubtedly from farm-work. He dressed in well-worn pants and a ratty shirt that was more used than old. He held a hoe, blade sharp and gleaming.

"Leave the old man alone, you pigeon-heads!" the boy said, jabbing the hoe at them single-handedly. "You won't be pickin' on anybody on the Stryker farm, not while I'm around! Now git! An' I'm tellin' all your Pa's about this, sure as my name's Kurtis Stryker!"

All the boys wailed dismally and rushed off, dropping their stones. Raiden watched their departure speculatively, then turned to the boy. "Thank you," he said, crossing the brook to stand by the boy. Flattery and humbleness would be expected from a poor beggar, though Raiden was miffed he hadn't gotten the chance to scare the mortal brats. "Such a band of bullies, I'm not sure how I would have managed."

"Ah, shucks, mister," Kurtis beamed up at him. "They ain't much at all. Once you git all glower-y an' after their hides, they turn yellower'n chickens. You just need to know how to handle 'em proper. Now stallions, they're meaner'n a snake with no water, mark my words."

_Well well. A Chosen One that doesn't mouth off to every adult he sees. My luck's changing, it seems. _"Do you stand up for everyone that's in trouble?" Raiden asked, using some of his immortal power to keep the conversation honest.

"Sometimes," the boy answered, leaning the butt of his tool on the ground but seemingly unaware of the magical atmosphere surrounding him. "I don't like bullies. But, I can't fight all the time. Gotta set an example for my sisters an' all. An' Pa needs me on the farm. I can't pitch hay or plow fields if I'm all bruised-up."

_And I suspect he's been 'bruised-up' many times. Maybe an unlikely area for a Chosen One, but the place certainly breeds the same kind of heart as anywhere else. A shame his prowess in magic isn't as advanced as the others._ He laid a hand on the boy's shoulder, smiling down benignly as he used some of his immortality to magically mark the boy as a confirmed Chosen. "Sooner or later, I'm sure you'll be able to deter them from fighting without having to use fists. And I'm sure you'll do your father proud with your honorable soul."

Turning a furious red, Kurtis scuffed the ground with his boot. "Sheez, mister, I ain't _that_ special. Just dumber'n the other kids. Smart kids run away an' tell the adults."

"Ah, but you are honorable. Smart, too. Wait until you're older, and you'll see what I mean." Raiden turned and walked behind the oak to hide his teleport.

Kurtis spotted a belt on the ground where the old man had stood, picking it up and shouting after him, "Hey, wait, you forgot your belt!" He ran around the tree, nearly completing a circuit before realizing the man had disappeared. Eyes wide, he scanned the horizon, trying to catch a glimpse of the man's slightly hunched figure. Finding no sign that he had even been here, Kurtis scrutinized the belt. The leather was black, well-made, and engraved with the body length of a Chinese dragon. The gold buckle shone even in the poor light, and the head of the Chinese dragon glared out, daring anyone to make less of its nobility.

Taking one last glance around, Kurtis shrugged and wrapped the belt around his waist. It hung lopsided even at the tightest, but peering at his reflection in the brook, he thought it made him look like one of the old cowboys from the westerns his Pa always loved watching. Smiling satisfactorily, Kurtis headed home to help his Ma and Pa take care of the Stryker plot.

* * *

I decided Raiden could do with a break from mouthy Chosen children. Rest assured, Picking-on-Raiden-athon continues in the next few chapters. 


	6. Doesn't Play Well With Others: Sonya

Disclaimer: Mortal Kombat doesn't belong to me. I'm sure all MK fans out there are supremely relieved by that.

Dedicated to Oracle Thunder, who wanted to see J.C. Also dedicated to all the other readers/fans who want to see him, but think they won't because DOTR was based off the second movie, rather than the first. 'long, dramatic sigh'

* * *

_LiuSubzero**Sonya**JaxNightwolfStrykerKitana_

Yelling and screeching hit Raiden's ears as soon as he finished coalescing from the teleport. He peeked around the tree he stood behind, scoping out the location.

The expansive green park crawled with mortals, most of them children. Frisbees, balls, and all other sorts of playing equipment zoomed through the air. The majority of the toys were being used contrary to their design; a middle-aged man who had gray hair before his time ran after a particularly large group, yelling at the children that, "Softballs aren't made to be on fire!"

Raiden continued to scan the horizon, searching for the Chosen One. Eyes narrowed, Raiden wondered why the aura seemed dispersed among the crowd—

"You can't do that, Johnny!"

The god turned. In the distance, at the bottom of a hill, a young girl stood with her fists on her hips, glaring angrily at a similarly-posed boy. Her bright blonde hair was tied into low-hanging pigtails, and blue eyes sparkled crystal clear.

"Yes I can, Sonya! I can do anything!" the boy retorted proudly, ruffling back his dirty-blonde hair.

"Liar!" the girl, Sonya, retorted.

_And there they are,_ Raiden thought to himself. He made his way over, taking care to duck a wayward frisbee and a flaming softball. He stopped short, watching their exchange for another minute.

"Johnny, give me back my racket before I bite you!" Sonya demanded.

"Just let me have it for a minute, really, I'll show you!" Johnny nearly showed Sonya whatever it was Sonya deemed impossible, when his eyes alighted on Raiden. "Hi!"

Sonya turned and looked at the god. Her eyes narrowed, then she kicked Raiden hard in the shin. "Who're you? I'm warning you, my Dad's a Major in the U.S. Army, he can kick your butt!"

_Ow! What in the name of the elders? Why is she kicking me?_ "I mean no harm, child," Raiden lifted his hands in order to placate her. Johnny, however, took this as a sign of impending harm and swung his foot at Raiden's knee.

_Dammit! When was I declared the punching bag? Children this generation! No respect for the elderly, really! _"Enough! I'm not going to hurt you! I'm only enjoying the sun as you and your friend are."

"He's not my friend," Sonya stuck out her tongue at Johnny. "He stole my racket!"

"Hey, I am, too!" Johnny whined. "And I'm not stealing it! I'll give it back, once I'm done!"

"Jerk!" Sonya shot back.

"Brat!" Johnny snapped.

"Bigger jerk!"

"Biggest brat!"

Sonya fumed, punching the boy in the arm. He yelped, but didn't hand back the badminton racket.

Raiden watched the fight, blinking confusedly. He had meant to address them and mark them as the Chosen Ones, but their argument had spiraled out of control and he couldn't find a pause to put a word in edge-wise. Finally he decided that ignorance would probably be better in this case than full disclosure. He stepped in, placed a hand lightly on both their shoulders and designated them as Chosen. They halted in their arguing at his approach, but from the slightest dip of Johnny's hand that held the racket Sonya reverted her attention back to the boy.

"Jonathan Linden Carlton, you give me back that racket before I punch you in the nuts!"

"You wouldn't dare!" Johnny retorted.

"Keep that racket and you'll see how much I dare!"

"You wait and see, Sonya Blade! I'll be the coolest movie star in _all_ time, and you'll be begging to be one of my girlfriends!"

"Not even if you had a billion dollars!"

Raiden decided now was about the time he ought to leave the two mortal children, before his day began to get worse.

Sonya twisted at the scent of something burnt, but found only very cool shades and a pair of gloves. She tilted her head at them, cautiously picking up the gloves. The leather was soft and a dragon enclosed by a circle was etched into the back of the gloves. They were too big for her . . . for now, at least. _I can wear them when I'm older,_ Sonya thought with a satisfied smile.

"Hey, cool!" Johnny picked up the shades, putting them on with a confident grin. "All the great movie stars have shades like these! And they have dragons on it! Even cooler!"

Sonya admitted, for being a new kid she sure had made a weird friend in this Jonathan Carlton. But Dad had already told her they'd be moving by the end of the month for Washington D.C.; she'd miss Johnny and all his quirks, though she'd never tell him _that_. "You're a dork! Give me back that racket!"

"Aw, come on, just let me show you how to do it!" Johnny lifted up the racket and swung at a stone, thinking that if he concentrated hard enough he could use magic to protect the racket from breaking on impact like they showed in the movies.

_Craaaack!_

"You _broke_ it!"

"I'm sorry, I'll get it fixe—ow! You bit me! Hey—ow! _Moooom,_ Sonya's biting me!"


	7. No Dumb Questions, Just Pricey Ones: Jax

Disclaimer: Mortal Kombat doesn't belong to me. I'm sure all MK fans out there are supremely relieved by that.

Grr. I apologize if this comes out worse than the others; Jax simply didn't want to get written.

* * *

_LiuSubzeroSonya**Jax**NightwolfStrykerKitana_

Raiden solidified from his teleport, glancing left and right to ensure his privacy. No one was around, though an old lady was waddling up the street six doors away.

Choosing his garb carefully, Raiden stepped out into the sunlight wearing a trench coat and a modified version of his coolie hat, this one bearing more of a resemblance to a bucket hat.

Before too long Raiden came upon an elementary school yard, complete with seesaws, swings, and sandboxes. Arrayed by the swings were two boys and a girl, huddled together over a bin and whispering urgently. One boy, chubbier than the rest, frequently smacked the other two beside him upside their heads in conjunction with a, "We can't _do_ that, you idiot!" The aura from this boy was strong and reminiscent of the previous Chosen Ones.

_Alright, hopefully this turns out smoother than the last time._ Raiden approached the children, and only gained their attention when the girl to the Chosen's right nudged him. They turned, the two on each side with touches of fear and meekness. The middle boy, however, looked up speculatively and challengingly.

_Naturally_, Raiden thought with a sigh, _the boy couldn't be like his companions and regard me with respect and humility. No, he has to have defiance and apathy._

"Can we help you?" the boy asked demurely, though Raiden wasn't fooled; the boy's eyes were far too calculating to be innocent.

"I'm just curious as to why you children aren't in school," Raiden beckoned to the brick building. "Isn't that why your parents send you here?"

"School hasn't started yet," the boy retorted; his friends seem to take their cues from him, as they had said or done nothing. "We came early to get a head start on the rest. Got anything else, sir?"

Raiden blinked. "Well, you certainly are productive. Could I get the names of such efficient young men?"

The boy stuck out his hand, a small grin stretching across his face. "Five dollars, please."

That took Raiden aback. "What?"

"You want personal information, you gotta offer payment," the boy replied.

_The thief!_ "You didn't charge me for the first question I asked," Raiden pointed out.

"One freebie for every customer. You gonna pay or are you okay with being left in the dark?"

Frowning, Raiden conjured a five bill in his pocket and handed it to him. "Satisfactory?"

The boy managed to keep a smug grin from his face, but his companions were less than adept at hiding their glee. The boy stuffed the bill into the bin and said complacently, "My name's Jax. That's Gemini, he's Red."

"And are you—" Jax made a noise, holding out his hand once more and making a gesture. Restraining himself from growling, Raiden paid the boy again. "Are you planning something?"

"We're just fundraising," Jax said, also stuffing that bill into the bin.

_Fundraising for—ah. Clever boy. Answer simply what is asked, never elaborate. Because then they have to pay for the information. Clever._ "I won't be asking you what you're doing with the money, for your information," Raiden told Jax with a small smile. "I'm a bit more intelligent than that."

"Are you sure?" Jax asked coyly, though the hope was still in his eyes. "It's _reeaallly_ interesting."

"Positive. You'll have to make do with the ten you've already goaded from me."

"B-but," Jax pleaded, eyes growing bright with tears, "w-what if I'm t-trying to save my mother from c-cancer? I need money to pay for her t-t-treatment!"

_Hmpf._ "I'm not buying it," Raiden told him.

Instantly the tears vanished. "I bet you want to know what I'm gonna be when I grow up," Jax coaxed. "All adults want to know what kids plan on doing."

_Hopefully you'll be a great fighter, who doesn't swindle money from poor, abused thunder gods._ "I'm not terribly curious."

"Sure you are!" Gemini chimed in.

"Yeah!" Red added. "We'll even give you a discount! Three for the price of one!"

Raiden raised a brow. _Either they're very close to whatever their goal is, or they just love irritating people._ "Alright, fine. What is it the three of you want to do when you grow up?" But before Raiden could draw out a five dollar bill Jax intruded. "Ten dollars."

Glowering down, Raiden noted his unwavering determination. "I thought it was five dollars per question."

"It's a complicated answer," Jax replied. "Besides, it's still a bargain for you. I could ask for fifteen. We gotta think about our business, here. It's no good for us unless there's profit."

Rolling his eyes mentally, Raiden changed the bill's appearance and gave it to the boy. "Fine. Ten."

Jax smiled, folding the bill neatly and tucking it into the bin. "Well, I want to be a fireman."

"I want to be a police officer," Gemini added with a grin.

"And I want to be a para—para—paraplegic," Red stumbled over the last word.

"Not 'paraplegic,' Red, 'para_medic_,'" Jax corrected gently.

"Oh, yeah, that!" Red nodded in agreement.

_Hm, fireman. Brave soul._ "I'm sure you will all do wonderfully in whatever you choose," Raiden told them, patting Jax's shoulder and sending a shock through him to mark the Chosen One. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go. Try not to extort money from anyone else, alright?"

"Sure, sir," Jax nodded with a grin, turning back to his friends. The boy grinned even wider as he added the twenty dollars to the previous sum. "Two hundred thirty-six dollars. I told you guys we could get the money. Now we can buy the Nintendo system."

"Let's go, then!" Red and Gemini headed off, but Jax lingered. He spotted a bandana on the ground and picked it up, letting the material slide over his hands. A black, Chinese dragon was centered in the large, red fabric. Tilting his head from side to side, Jax looked around for the old man. Deciding the old geezer had vanished, Jax wrapped the bandana around his head and took off after his friends.

_Getting money isn't the only thing I can do. I'm gonna go far. I'll be the best man for **any** job, just they wait and see._


	8. A Present Day Present: Raiden

Disclaimer: Mortal Kombat doesn't belong to me. I'm sure all MK fans out there are supremely relieved by that.

* * *

_LiuSubzeroSonyaJaxNightwolfStrykerKitana  
__**Raiden**_

"Raiden? Raiden? Are you well?"

Coming out of his reverie, Raiden smiled up at Kitana. "Sorry about that. Must've dozed off." He looked around, noticing the abandoned kitchen. "Where'd the others go?"

"The others wanted to watch a movie," Kitana grinned. "We decided the kitchen was not the place to watch a movie, not just because of the lack of equipment, but because it has the potential to escalate rather violently, especially if we do agree to watch _Moulin Rouge_."

_Oh. Oops. Probably should have paid a little more attention._ "Well, shall we go and play chaperons to the unruly children?" Raiden suggested with a smirk, rising and stretching.

"Yes," Kitana nodded, leaving the kitchen. Raiden made to follow the Princess, still slightly caught in the past, when an object distracted him.

A package sat on Liu's chair, simple in its brown wrapping but slightly marred with black marks and an overabundance of tape. A card sat on top, simple with a cover that read, "To a Special Someone" in slanting, red cursive.

Curious, Raiden picked up the card and read,

_To Raiden,_

_Apologies about the corniness of the card; Jax and Stryker were all for getting a Father's Day card because they thought it would be hilarious, but we decided on something more neutral._

_We (meaning Sub-Zero, Kitana, Nightwolf, Jax and myself) also apologize for the present's wrapping; we were all busy with helping Nightwolf organize the infirmary, so we left the job to Sonya and Stryker, thinking they'd be united under the common goal of giving you a gift. They wound up in an argument over who got to wrap and who was in charge of the tape—don't ask, even we're not too sure how job delegation was important enough to warrant a physical fight—_(Raiden took a look at the present, which indeed had a few dented corners and the black marks were now more visible as scorch marks)—_but as far as we know the present wasn't harmed._

_You may be wondering where the present is coming from. Well, we happened to compare notes one day and noticed a very similar occurrence that happened on this day twenty-five years ago. Even Kitana mentioned receiving a mysterious gift two years previously. Being the grown adults that we are, we came to a conclusion and decided you deserved something, too._

_We're honored that you chose us to be your Chosen Ones and Defenders. We'll do our best not to disappoint you, and hope that you aren't too disappointed in u—_ Here there was a wild jerk in the pen, a blotted watermark, and the card picked up on the opposing side of the card. _Sorry about that, two people who shall remain nameless got into a fight over a water bottle; honestly, it's kind of like having Johnny back, except with less pleas for us to star in his movies._

_As I'm sure you were more interested in the card than the present, you should open that now. We hope you're happy with the gift, and in us._

_From Your Defenders_

_P.S.—Nightwolf says you owe him a very lengthy explanation about his bow; he's been waiting twenty-five years and feels it's quite overdue._

Raiden read over the card twice more, smiling contentedly. He had the sneaking suspicion Sonya and Stryker were the "two people who shall remain nameless;" the two had gotten in an argument a week ago over a water bottle, and wouldn't let the subject go until Sub-Zero threatened to freeze every droplet in their bodies if they didn't shut up. Everyone knew the ninja would never make good on his threat, but it had been effective in stopping the fight.

Turning his attention now to the package, Raiden held the package close to his ear and shook it, like a child near the holiday season. Curious, Raiden ripped off the wrapping and opened the box.

A gold conical hat, much like the one atop his head, gleamed in the box. Raiden lifted and examined the hat, touched. Flipping it over, he saw the Mortal Kombat dragon inked onto the bottom, drawn to perfection. Wondering where they could have gone to get such craftsmanship, Raiden flicked a finger; lightning spouted and the hat on his head vanished. In the light of the bolt something flashed in the box. Curious as to what else they could have gotten him, Raiden dug through the box. His hand stilled as he stared.

A picture frame rested in the box, but the frame wasn't what drew his attention. Seven pictures, obviously cropped and put together courtesy of technology, of children and two adults were arrayed, smiling up at him.

Little Liu in black and white, but still somehow delivering his cynicism. Sub-Zero the adult, but Raiden could easily bring to mind the child trying to bring honor to his clan. Curious Nightwolf with a tiny Kiva on top of his head, laughing merrily. Noble Stryker, face covered in dirt but the happiness shining out from under the dirt mask. Proud Sonya, dressed in her father's Army uniform that was several sizes too large for her. Surreptitious Jax, holding _Where The Wild Things Are_ that he was undoubtedly reading to a very young audience. An adult Kitana, one whom Raiden had never personally met as a child but could think back to the days five hundred years ago, when Kitana and Kung Lao had met.

Loud accusations and cursing rose from somewhere in the base, followed by mirthful laughing. Shaking his head, Raiden placed his new hat on his head and left the kitchen, tucking the picture in the crook of his elbow. Sure, if they hadn't figured his identity out for themselves, he would have never told them about meeting them (Raiden stubbornly refused to admit he had been afraid of their reactions; it was _not_ godlike to be afraid of mortals). But he was glad they had.

He couldn't enact his vengeance for their immaturity if they hadn't, after all.


End file.
